Dumbledore, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick walked down into the rows of tables, each headed for their houses.
At closer range, Dumbledore looked like his robe was made for someone far taller (which it was), and still sported a small beard (though it was nothing compared to what he'd had as a human.
I noticed Flitwick was shorter still than Dumbledore, but stood upright like him. Our Charms class teacher lacked hands, but sported a horn!
Sprout walked on two legs too, and like Dumbledore and Flitwick had no hands. She also looked like she'd lost girth along with height, but she still had plenty of the former compared to most ponies.
"Come on, everyone, off to our tower. Percy, I'd appreciate your assistance," Dumbledore said, sounding more vital than I'd ever heard him before.
Percy shook his head and looked up at Dumbledore. "Yes, sir." He jumped to his hooves and looked like all the weariness of the fight we'd just been through was gone. "Alright, everyone, you heard Professor Dumbledore, and you all know the way."
"Does Percy sound different to you?" I asked Ron. "Only, he seems to be more—well—alive than he was earlier."
Ron looked at me like I was crazy. "Was he dead earlier?"
"No, Ron," Hermione said—towering above us, "Harry means he looks more vital than—" She halted when something very odd happened.
A hornless/wingless girl—standing upright but without hands—rushed over, dropped to all fours before Percy, and kissed him. She had a blonde mane with a brown coat, and seemed overly excited. With a laugh that sounded more like a horse neighing than anything I'd expected to hear out of a student that wasn't in Transfiguration class, she rushed back to her own house—Ravenclaw.
"Well that confirms that our Percy's got the same feelin's." George strutted up beside us, showing off how well he managed to walk on all fours now. "Penelope Clearwater. Not a bad sort, from what I've heard of her. Lookit 'im blush!"
My eyesight might be bad, but I could see Percy blushing past the fur of his face. We'd barely gotten out the doors—with Slytherin in front of us—when we heard a shout of surprise.
"Where's the stairs?!"
"What happened to our dungeon?!"
"Where's the basement?!"
"Oi! Calm down! Let's check downstairs."
Snape pushed his way past all his students by way of being bigger than them. "Excellent observation, Mr. Bole. Five points to Slytherin."
Being a half-blind kirin, even at the side of the Gryffindor group, made it hard to work out what exactly happened, though their shouting gave me some idea. And it was obvious, now I thought about it, but it meant the castle was literally cut in half by the crystal bit—assuming Hogwarts still had its basements and dungeons.
"What's so funny, Harry Potter?" Addera slithered up beside me and picked me up. The added height of her position let me see… practically nothing more than I could from the ground.
"Imagine if the crystal filled in the dungeon," I said.
There was a feeling of excitement all along the way back to the Gryffindor common room. Most of us were a mix of pony/human shapes, but we had our own share of pure pony students—the Weasleys being the majority of them.
When we all piled into the common room, Fred and George found their usual spot on a couch, but I noticed a pony sitting beside Fred with white fur and a soft pink mane.
"That's Alicia. She's been like that since the big fight," Ron said beside me. "They ain't half close, ya think?"
Before I could reply, Katie Bell jumped up beside us. "Is this where we gossip about the rest of the team? I'm in. So, Fred and Alicia are old news. They've been hiding behind every corner Hogwarts has since before all this started. The real news is George and Eliza. Did you see 'em looking at each other in the great hall?"
"That was the Ravenclaw with wings?" Ron asked.
"Bingo! I bet George sneaks off after this to meet her somewhere before dinner." Katie rolled her shoulders. "Wish I'd gotten wings. Do you think they're just slow to grow in?"
Back home on Privet Drive, this wouldn't have flown at all. Wanting to have wings, a horn, be able to fly, a different colored tail—My brain shorted out as I realized the bad pun I'd inadvertently made. "I don't think much of anything in advance anymore. It tends not to work out so well. Besides, we might not even be ponies in a week."
Hermione surprised me by gasping louder than Katie. "But I've barely begun experimenting with my horn!"
"I for one rather like my new shape. Apart from the urge to devour all the Slytherin students, which isn't unique to this form, I quite enjoy being able to speak." Addera slithered up beside the couch and coiled herself up.
"I concur, though it would be good to be able to hold a wand." Dumbledore's voice surprised us all into silence. Everyone turned their attention to him. "Miss Addera, would you mind giving us all a class on the subject right now?"
It was a nice way to wind down after the panic of a battle, and little by little everyone (who needed to) got the hang of using their hooves to hold things—except me. My hooves were built different to the others, but it wasn't a major problem for me since I had my horn.
Hermione, too, looked a little smug at her retaining her hands, and it looked like there was a fair few others in Gryffindor similarly retaining their hands. One who—despite my cruddy eyesight—looked on top of the world, was Dean. He still had his mop of dark hair, below which was a huge smile plastered on his brown-furred face. Every few minutes I could hear him giggle and say, "Half-blood" with complete joy.
They were all pretty excited and upbeat despite being stuck (for now) as ponies. We'd won a quidditch game, a war, and we could all use our magic again freely. It was more, though. All around the common room people were struggling to work magic—holding wands seemed to be the biggest issue—as if they were learning it all over again.
"Everyone's having fun. How are you after your grand deception?" Dumbledore's soft voice somehow cut through the noise of over two hundred Gryffindors talking.
"Honestly? A little surprised it worked and no one got hurt." In my mind I ruled out turned everyone into ponies as not being injury so much as wizardry. "Well, I got hurt, but whatever that magic was the Heart did healed me."
"Remarkable. Tell me, what do you know about healing magic?" Dumbledore seemed to have engaged teacher mode on me.
It wasn't terribly hard to put together an answer. "We haven't gotten to it yet, but—"
"Healing magic?" Ron seemed to appear out of nowhere and climb up on the couch beside me. He had a cardboard tube stuck to his forehead with tape. "Percy said Charlie's old wand was really good at healing magic. Something about it being willow to its core."
"Indeed!" Despite the interruption, Dumbledore seemed more than happy to go along with the supplied information. "Willow is the best wood for a wand made to perform healing magic, and that wand of yours is willow through and through. But what I wanted to get to was that healing magic has two main fields.
"Guided healing magic requires a trained will behind it that knows the body intrinsically. The slightest mistake with it and you'll be doing irreparable damage.
"Accelerating healing magic works to aid the body in correcting things that are wrong. Bodies are quite good at fixing themselves, and all it does is make them better at it."
"Which one is better?" I asked.
"Neither. Both have their uses and both have disadvantages. You don't want to accelerate healing when there's a dirty wound, and you don't want to use guided healing." There was something bizarre about how—well—cute Dumbledore looked. There was just no other word for it. Ponies were inherently cute.
Ron seemed more interested than ever. "Then what about phoenix tears? How do those work when they can cure anything?" The question was a good one.
"Phoenix tears are shed solely at the discretion of their owner. If they were just guided healing, they wouldn't work if bottled, yet they do. If they were just accelerated, why, they wouldn't work on things such as basilisk venom." We both got a significant look from Dumbledore that had nothing to do with the lesson being taught. I figured out what I thought he meant—Addera was as much a danger as the other teachers had thought if her venom had a ready antidote.
"So what are they?" I asked.
"Why, they're magic." For almost twenty seconds Dumbledore held the same bright smile that I knew him well enough to know was him enjoying a good joke. "Near as anyone can tell, the phoenix themselves imbue their will into their tears. Some magic is just magic.
"There was somewhat more I wanted to discuss with you, Harry. We don't seem to have a way home at the moment, which gives us all a little time to ourselves."
I looked over to Ron, but he shrugged at me. "What do you mean, sir?"
"Your new form, Harry, can't have been an accident. Wizarding blood is in all of us, but all it took was a nudge for you—and professor Snape—to be quite different. While Percy suffered from a similar change, we know there are ponies just like him in this world."
"One of the Ravenclaw students called me a kirin. He—she—seemed to know something about them. Maybe I should ask her what she knows?" Digging around in my memory of the last few days, I tried to remember her name.
"Luna Lovegood, I think it was," Ron said. "But what about the ponies? Wouldn't they know if there were other creatures like Harry?"
"People, Ron. We gotta think of everyone—" I grinned, "—and everypony, as people. People like us. I'll try to find Flagessio and Keen tomorrow."
"Well, it sounds like you have it all under control then." Standing up, Dumbledore slid off the couch and onto just two legs. He stood easily, despite his body resembling a quadrupedal pony in every other way. "Oh, and professor Snape said he'd make another pair of glasses for you, Harry."
"Dinner in twenty minutes!" someone called.
Gemma Farley should have been with the others of house Slytherin, trying to find Slytherin's dungeon. Instead of running around with a bunch of ponies that already looked up to her and considered her their leader, she was being that leader. Sitting across from her was Prince Shining Armor, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, and Twilight Sparkle.
Smiling as she looked aside to Gemma, Minerva McGonagall felt more herself than the entirety of the previous week. "You'll have to excuse things being a little hectic here. It's safe to say this is the first time Hogwarts Castle has been in quite this situation, though it is gracious of you to meet us." The words had been cooked up between her and Gemma.
"I don't think anypony could have predicted all this from happening." Twilight smiled aside to Cadance and her brother. "I wanted to give you my report on what I've learned about the Crystal Heart and the magic it released.
"Nothing! It's maddening! Any spell or magic I try to use to examine it, it sucks up and sends it skyward!" With her hair frizzing a little, Twilight held her head in her hooves. "I'm supposed to be the one here to examine these things, but I can't do anything and it just keeps turning and—"
Shining Armor banged a hoof loudly on the table to get his little sister's attention. He knew from experience that it would take more than just one sense getting a jolt to pull Twilight Sparkle out of a freak-out. "Twily, relax. We should have plenty of time to examine it now that Sombra is gone."
"About the artifact," Gemma said to pull the conversation back to one of the paths she'd planned for. "We are quite willing to allow you to use it while we arrange for our return, but—"
Cutting in, Cadance could see where Gemma was going with her speech, and wanted to make some things clear. "The Crystal Heart is an ancient artifact belonging to the Crystal Empire. This event was expected, and while we don't know why you were pulled along as well, this land and the Crystal Heart are of Equestrian origin."
Minerva saw that Gemma would chase down each little part of their plan until they had all the chips. "Correct. Which makes the castle—Hogwarts—ours." She couldn't help a sigh. "You'll forgive me, but politics are not my strong suit. We are teachers and students, not governors."
"Well, at least one of us seems good at this kind of thing." Cadance looked significantly at Gemma. "Let me tell you the story, as Princess Celestia told it to me.
"A thousand years ago Sombra took over the Crystal Empire. The crystal ponies fought him, but while some managed to escape his notice and free some of their friends, a lot—you saw them outside—were caught and subjected to Sombra's control.
"Before he could march out with his army of slaves, two ponies arrived: Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. Their fight was swift—they defeated him. Sombra was left bodiless and retreated to the heart of the Crystal Empire. In the huge castle there, he triggered some kind of powerful magic, and the whole empire vanished."
"He brought it to Earth? No, that doesn't make sense." Minerva shook her head. She remembered the history of Hogwarts quite well. "Hogwarts was built exactly a thousand years ago, so it couldn't be the same—"
Twilight cleared her throat and jumped in excitedly. "Actually, while it's only a theory, dimensional time-slip would account for that. Normally it would be hard to even notice, but if time in your world was running even the slightest bit faster than time here, that would result in there being years of difference. The Crystal Empire could have been there for a hundred years already." When she realized everyone was staring at her, Twilight blinked in confusion. "What? It makes sense."
"You're a scholar, Miss Sparkle?" Minerva had absorbed the information, but one thing she recognized in Twilight was a kindred spirit.
"Twilight's the scholar. She trained at Princess Celestia's school, and needed to be ejected forcefully before she took over." Shining wasn't sure what about Twilight had done it, but the tension in the room was broken and he no longer felt the need to put up a forcefield and flee.
"So this is the Crystal Empire, but—" Stopping herself, Minerva thought about the situation. "What do you think would be the longest period the Crystal Empire could have been on Earth?" She was looking to Twilight for her answer.
"Uh. That depends on the time slip. It could be as little as one percent and you'd still have ten years," Twilight said.
"What, my dear, if it were larger. Much larger." Holding up her right forearm, Minerva flexed her wrist joint and titled her hoof around. "My first thought was the proximity to Hogwarts and the Heart caused this, but what if it goes back further?"
"The renegade crystal ponies?" Gemma was fast off the mark. "But they—That would mean—" She giggled, snorted, and Gemma Farley broke into a gale of laughter.
"Those renegades are our ancestors. Wizard blood will out, I guess." Minerva joined Gemma in a small chuckle herself. "I'm not sure how they did it, but it adds up, and would go a long way toward explaining why those of us transfigured into partial ponies."
Shining wasn't an egg-head like his little sister, and he didn't have all the lessons on statecraft his wife had, but he could follow logic and conclusions well enough. "That makes this easy, then. You're all descendants of those crystal ponies, so you're already citizens of the Crystal Empire and Equestria."
"That still doesn't resolve the state of ownership of Hogwarts." Despite her mirth, Gemma felt compelled to resolve the matter at hand—or hoof as the case may be.
"The best solution, I believe, is to take the lead of the castle itself. Gray stone and basements are yours, crystal—except for the stairwell between the two sections of your castle, and an entrance—is our castle." Cadance studied the two ponies facing her. One of them was a young mare perhaps a little younger than Twilight's age, the other was an aged mare with a penchant toward walking on her back legs, but they were definitely crystal ponies. "If we have the right of this, and Hogwarts and its grounds literally are the Crystal Empire, then you're going to have to face the fact that you may not be able to take Hogwarts with you."
Draco Malfoy was panicking. She'd only slipped away from the main group of Slytherin students by letting Lucian know who she was, to which the big prefect had grinned. A shudder ran through her body at memory of that grin—Lucian was a BIG pony, and Draco was sure she'd be paying some price to him before the week was out.
"No, you stupid room, I want male pony clothing!" She slammed the wardrobe door closed on the dresses within it and then used the same hoof to open it again. Gritting her teeth, she examined the double-breasted dinner jackets and shirts. "Where's the pants? This can't be all ponies wear! More!"
Once again she slammed the door closed, and once again opened it to dresses. Slowly, Draco's legs buckled and she flopped to her belly on the floor. Tears came. "Why am I crying?! It's just a stupid magic wardrobe!"
She wanted it to halt, for everything to go back to normal, but the more Draco wished for her old body back, the harder she cried.
Slowly, eventually, the tears began to slow. Draco felt the emotions of the day and of the whole last week feel washed out and drained of their color. Laying on her belly on the floor, her forehooves over her face and her wings spread out to each side, Draco Malfoy felt empty.
"Stupid horses." She wiped at her nose and face with the fur just above each hoof. "How am I going to tell my father?" The urge to cry came, but bereft of tears, she couldn't summon the fortitude to get upset any longer. "Okay, so I can't pass for a guy anymore. What—" Draco snorted a veritable host of boogers up her nose, or so it sounded, "—else is there?"
Gritting her teeth, Draco carefully closed the doors and opened them again. The clothing wasn't what she would term male clothing, but they were sensible robes adapted to a pony body. That there was a dress under them didn't fail to make her cringe, but it was better than everyone seeing her for what she was—Draco Malfoy the girl. In this, she reasoned, she would just be another anonymous member of Slytherin house.
She turned and stared at herself in the mirror, and a little winged horse stared back. Her hair had become her coat color: silvery-white, and she sported a mane and tail of charcoal. The new limbs she sported sprouted from her shoulders—she spread one and then the other.
Draco actually smiled, then laughed. Flying had been one of the few things in her life that she could truly just enjoy. With wings, she figured she'd be doing a lot more of that. Lifting her wings up, she pushed down with them and was excited when her hooves bounced off the floor.
"Is there somewhere I could—" Draco bit off the words. "I want somewhere I can practice flying!"
There was no clunk—no sound of stone shifting or the castle moving, but Draco watched as what had been a wall shifted and twisted, and a doorway appeared with a wooden door sized just for her. Biting back a thank you, Draco approached the door and opened it.
Laughter was an odd thing for Draco. She normally gained happiness when others were failing at something, but this was different. The door opened into a chamber that was probably bigger than Hogwarts itself. She couldn't see any floor, walls, or a ceiling far above. What was funny was that the door immediately opened out into that void.
"You know what? I'll take this dare." Without having done any flying before her cautious flap moments ago, Draco jumped forward and began falling, and falling, and even screaming.
What was a surprise to Draco was that the door flew past her, then again. It dawned on her that there was no floor and no ceiling, and with that information she laughed. "This is perfect!"
Spreading her wings, Draco began to tumble more than fall. It took a few long minutes of practice before she worked out how to balance on her wings, but once she did she began to glide.
This time the doorway back drifted past almost lazily. Draco knew she was still falling, but now she was in control of it—kinda. Draco practiced tilting her wings left or right, but while it worked, there was more to it than that. She could feel her feathers moving individually, and felt along her wings with her mind—much as all students were trained to do when transfigured—and felt for a myriad of muscles there.
The first time Draco twitched those feather-muscles, it was like cutting the strings of a marionette. Her wings stopped cupping air and she began to plummet. Setting the muscles again, and spreading her wings to cup the air, stopped her fall.
She twitched those muscles again, and once more her wings just didn't hold her, but she quickly set them back. "Okay, this time let's do this properly." Jerking her wings upward, Draco flexed the muscles of her feathers and, at the peak of her stroke, set them back and pumped down hard.
Draco was working on her flapping when movement at the doorway (that she was flying up to) caught her attention.
"Oi! Dinner's in five, Draco!" Lucian Bole followed Draco Malfoy with his eyes, watching her flap and fly about in nothing. The sight made Lucian smile a little at how perfect it seemed. When Draco turned toward him and started flying closer, Lucian almost didn't get out of the way in time.
Having worked out the basics of flying, Draco was still short of one important piece of practice—landing. Tucking her wings in at the last second, she came through the door and slid on all fours across the room before hitting the wall on the other side with a thump, then collapsed onto the floor.
Draco was stunned when a big, crystalline dirty-yellow hoof was thrust toward her. Gingerly she took the hoof, and Lucian hauled Draco to her hooves. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it. We 'ad a deal, remember? What've you got in that closet of yours to fit a 'andsome stallion?" The changes—indeed the entire situation of being able to be a pretty pony without risking his reputation—tickled Lucian Bole as pink as his mane and tail were.
"When'd you work out I was—"
"A girl? Well, when news went around the prefects that a few others had changed, and I remembered you'd probably gotten a boost to school from a younger age, and you actin' all cagey about lettin' me see your tail—It was kinda obvious. I might look like an idiot, I might sound like an idiot, and I might even 'it like an idiot, but I'm not the dimmest candle in the room."
Snorting, Draco started walking over to the closet while trying to fold her wings to her sides—the feathers just didn't sit right, however.
"You gotta preen 'em. Feathers. Seen birds do it, and in Care of Magical Creatures, we watched some critters do it. Not too many pegasi in the school. You wanna talk to Hooch or that pony that's been teachin' her." Lucian watched Draco walk with keen interest.
Not unaware of the look she was getting, Draco stopped at the doors of the closet. "What?"
"I've got your secret, I guess giving you mine is checks out. Mutually assured embarrassment an' all that. I like ponies. Me mum was expectin' a girl—all the signs pointed to 'er havin' a daughter. She 'ad all my clothes picked out, toys too. She didn't give 'em to me, but I found the old boxes of things." Without meaning to, Lucian danced on all four hooves in excitement. "And now I get to be a pretty pony!"
Draco Malfoy was speechless. She stared at the blissful bruiser for a few seconds and then blew a little sigh. "If I laugh, or tell anyone else, I'll be beaten into last year, won't I?"
"An' then some."
Realization dawned on Draco, and she figured out what was going on. Lucian just wanted to tell somebody. The stuff about secrets was a load of owl poop. "My secret is a little harder to hide. It's not like it'll be a secret much longer."
Lucian smiled in a way he—at least from what he could see in the mirrors of the wardrobe Draco was beside—thought was softer and nicer than before. "You think if you stand by my side and announce it, anyone'd dare say a word against you?"
Using her wings to close the closet doors, Draco nodded. "Potter would, and his friends."
"Then we make Farley stand on the other side o' ya."
"Ask her, you mean?"
"No, Draco, make 'er. Farley wouldn't respect either of us if we asked her a favor without making it seem like her own idea. She' all 'igh and mighty with the headmistress, but it's Slytherin she owes her loyalty to, first an' foremost. Now, what can you do wif that thing?" Lucian nodded at the wardrobe.
"A boys and a girls uniform to fit me and Lucian," Draco said. "And I don't want a small male uniform and a female one for Lucian, I don't want human ones, and I don't want uniforms for—for the police. I want two student uniforms for Hogwarts sized and suited to us!"
"You really need t' say all that?" Lucian asked.
"You. Wouldn't. Believe." Closing the doors, Draco pulled them open again and actually smiled. On two hangers were a set of robes, a dress, and a sharp looking shirt and blazer for each of them. Draco was reaching for hers when Lucian touched her shoulder. "What?"
"Go and wash your face. You've been cryin'."
Looking into the mirror, Draco saw exactly what Lucian meant. Runnels of wetness had dried on her cheeks to form lines in her fur. "Thanks."
By the time Draco returned, Lucian was pulling his robe over his back and settling it on his shoulders. "What do you think?"
Seeing the big colt with bright pink mane and tail poking out of the austere uniform made Draco snort. "You look like a pretty pony wearing a school uniform."
"Brilliant!"
"They didn't see us—me." Peter Pettigrew hid inside a bush. He hated how the thorns seemed to snag on his mane and tail, but it was better than getting caught by the wizards and witches now approaching the portal his mistress had ripped between the worlds.
The power of Ginevra Weasley burned at the amulet around his neck. It was too tight to remove—not that he wanted to now. The darkness she wielded, that she seemed capable of manipulating, left his last master a pale imitation. That both of them lacked bodies was a wash so far as he was concerned.
But there was something more about Ginevra that excited Peter—her master. He'd been power incarnate, and it was intoxicating to him to just be around the pair. "What do you want me to do?"
'Tell him we seek his old master.'
Ginevra gasped at the mental contact. 'You're still there? His master was killed, He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named.'
'He lives yet. The mark your beast still bears pulls him. Simply have him lead us there.'
'Are we going to—to kill him?'
'Yesss.'
That prospect, defeating He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named, excited Ginevra. She didn't have a body, she didn't have the face to smile or feet to dance with anticipation, but there was nothing so right, that felt as good to conceive of, than to end—Voldemort. 'Find Voldemort. Find him for me.'
Peter's knees began to wobble, and his eyes widened with absolute fear. "Th-There's plenty of places in the world. Why go to the same one he's in? I hear Australia is nice this time of year. We could go there and—"
'Find Voldemort!' Ginevra's thoughts swirled with anger at being questioned.
The command had Peter's hooves moving. He pulled himself out of the bush and focused on the mark on his arm. The sensation—the feeling he got—wouldn't have worked unless his old master wished it to. Joy leapt around inside Peter. "He's this way. This way!" A normal walk wasn't enough, nor a trot—Peter Pettigrew galloped.